the mob, and tarred and feathered,
which punishment being equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, he was afterwards
considered as an outcast from society, and his opinion went for nothing.
The question, therefore, being unanimously carried in the affirmative, it
was recommended to the grand council to pass it into a law; which was
accordingly done. By this measure the hearts of the people at large were
wonderfully encouraged, and they waxed exceeding choleric and valorous.
Indeed, the first paroxysm of alarm having in some measure subsided, the
old women having buried all the money they could lay their hands on, and
their husbands daily getting fuddled with what was left, the community
began even to stand on the offensive. Songs were manufactured in Low
Dutch, and sung about the streets, wherein the English were most woefully
beaten, and shown no quarter; and popular addresses were made, wherein it
was proved to a certainty that the fate of Old England depended upon the
will of the New Amsterdammers.

Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of Great Britain, a
multitude of the wiser inhabitants assembled, and having purchased all
the British manufactures they could find, they made thereof a huge
bonfire, and in the patriotic glow of the moment, every man present who
had a hat or breeches of English workmanship pulled it off, and threw it
into the flames, to the irreparable detriment, loss and ruin of the
English manufacturers! In commemoration of this great exploit they erected
a pole on the spot, with a device on the top intended to represent the
province of Nieuw Nederlandts destroying Great Britain, under the
similitude of an eagle picking the little island of Old England out of the
globe; but either through the unskillfulness of the sculptor, or his
ill-timed waggery, it bore a striking resemblance to a goose vainly
striving to get hold of a dumpling.

CHAPTER VIII.

It will need but little penetration in any one conversant with the ways of
that wise but windy potentate, the sovereign people, to discover that not
withstanding all the warlike bluster and bustle of the last chapter, the
city of New Amsterdam was not a whit more prepared for war than before.
The privy councillors of Peter Stuyvesant were aware of this; and, having
received his private orders to put the city in an immediate posture of
defense, they called a meeting of the oldest and richest burghers to
assist them with their wisdom. Thes